


The Grief That Binds Us

by Thunderfire69



Series: Spideyflash [3]
Category: Spider-Man: Far From Home
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief, Grieving, Gunshots, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Pre-Slash, Wounds, can be read as pre-slash or friendship, i intended it to be pre-slash tho, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 01:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19802197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderfire69/pseuds/Thunderfire69
Summary: SET AFTER FAR FROM HOME, SO THERE’S SPOILERS FOR THAT HERE!!!





	The Grief That Binds Us

There’s something weird about the night air, an unnatural chill that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not his Spidey-Senses, he knows that much by now, but there’s just something that feels… off. 

From his perch, Peter can see most of the city; the way street lights illuminate the roads, and the way the lights from the buildings make the city seem awake and alive, even at such an hour of the night.

He can see billboards and advertisements; everything that makes his home feel like home, Queens feel like Queens, New York feel like New York. But despite how familiar it all feels, he can’t shake that icy feeling. Something very, very bad would happen that night- Peter was certain of it.

He’d barely come to this conclusion when he heard a gunshot, followed by another two, in rapid succession. Peter was moving instantly, leaping from the building and shooting out a web, where it stuck with a  _ thwap  _ to the closest building, catching him from his fall and swinging him across the city.

Normally, this was an exhilarating feeling; the wind rushing past him, the adrenaline of the free fall. The way his stomach would drop as he caught himself literal seconds before he hit the ground, only to do it over and over, again and again.

But not tonight.

Peter knew that someone was in danger, or that someone could have already died. He didn’t like the thought of it, of someone having been killed during one of his patrols, but he knew what was at stake here.

He carefully dropped into the alleyway he’d tracked the noises of the gunshots to; cautiously creeping forwards through the shadows, he quickly realised whatever thugs had been here were gone. All that was left was the victim; or victims, Peter realised as he drew closer.

One was certainly gone, limp and lifeless and practically drowning in a pool of blood. They seemed to have blood flooding from the few wounds they had, still pumping out of them despite the fact that they were dead, just making the pool beneath them grow more and more.

The other was hunched over them, crying, and as Peter drew nearer he realised he recognised the survivor. He bit down on his own tongue to stop himself from crying out in shock.

It was Flash.

The dead person beneath him was hard to make out from where Peter was, but he was pretty sure it was Flash’s mother. He crept another careful step closer, and confirmed in his mind that it was. Her face was still, lifeless, and one of the most horrible sights Peter had ever seen.

He pressed a hand against his mask, clamping it over his mouth to stop himself from gasping. He knew how it felt to lose a parental figure, especially after Uncle Ben... and Tony. He managed to compose himself after a few moments, and then he straightened and moved out of the shadows.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” Peter said loudly, and Flash looked up, startled, as Peter gestured to his dead mother. “I couldn’t save her.”

For a moment, Flash just stared at him in shock. Then he sniffled, and wiped at his face with a sleeve. “Yeah, whatever, Spider-Man.”

He sounded so monotone, so devoid of emotions, that it stung for Peter to hear.

“Let me check you for wounds,” Peter said, extending a hand towards Flash. The other boy just shrunk back, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I’m fine.”

It was then that Peter noticed the cut above Flash’s eye, and the slowly darkening spot on Flash’s sleeve that led him to believe he had a cut on his arm- and a nasty one, too.

“No, you’re not,” Peter argued gently. “I can see you bleeding from here. I always carry a small med-pack with me; at least let me bandage them.”

Flash studied him for a long moment. His expression was wary, and full of distrust.

“If it makes you feel better,” he muttered, slowly uncoiling from himself and edging around his mother’s corpse, as if afraid to touch it. It hurt Peter to see this; especially since he didn’t really hate Flash anymore. The kid had eased up on bullying him since the Europe trip, and had actually started treating Peter as more of a friend. He watched as Flash carefully made his way over to him and then, once he was sure Flash wasn’t going to bolt if he moved, retrieved the med-pack from its place on his suit.

He carefully cleaned and bandaged the cut above Flash’s eye, trying his best to be patient with Flash’s flinching and cursing.

“Ow! That fucking hurts you fucking bitch!”

“I literally just put the bandage on. I’m done.” Peter them carefully pushed up Flash’s sleeve to tend to the cut there, which was met with pretty much the same reception. The cut was just shy of needing stitches, and by the time Peter was done he was pretty sure Flash had just invented about ten new curse words.

“There, that should do for now,” Peter said, packing away his med-pack. “I’d still get them checked by a doctor though.”

Flash was silent for a moment, and then he spoke; four words that hurt Peter more than anything, more the cursing that had been happening before, more than any single person’s death. “Fuck you, Spider-Man.”

Peter couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t muster up any kind of response, all he could do was stare at Flash in shock. After a moment, Flash continued.

“Or should I say, fuck you, Peter Parker. Don’t think I didn’t see Mysterio’s… announcement.”

Peter pulled off his mask in a moment of anger; the mention of Mysterio’s name made him want to punch something. The villain had toyed with his mind more than anyone ever had. “None of what he said was true, apart from that I’m Spider-Man.”

Flash let out a dry, humourless laugh. “You think I don’t know that? No, why I’m mad is because you could have saved her. My mother is fucking  _ dead  _ because you weren’t quick enough!”

Peter swallowed audibly, mouth and throat dry. “I tried, Flash. I tried to get here in time. You  _ know  _ that.”

The other boy stared at Peter for a long moment, then he began to cry again, full on sobbing. “I know,” Flash managed to get out. “I know.”

Peter did the only thing he could do in that moment, which was to hug Flash and quietly say, “I understand. I’ve lost people too.”

**Author's Note:**

> FFH: *shows that Flash cares for his mother*  
> Me, an angsty writer: Flash cares about his mother, huh? Wishes she was there when he got picked up at the airport, huh? *cracks knuckles*


End file.
